


The Christmas Spirit

by lilaliacs



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater, Trc - Fandom
Genre: Gen, adam is tiny, it's Christmas, its old and cringeworthy writing but eh what can you do, set when noah is alive and working in a shitty retail job, this was a secret santa gift from last year i just found again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:38:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaliacs/pseuds/lilaliacs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Noah is 17 he takes on a shitty job in a shitty seasonal gift shop. Christmas time is the worst, as every year, except for this one encounter</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Christmas Spirit

With an exasperated sigh, Noah closes his eyes. 

What did he ever do to deserve this? What was there in his archieve of, yes, he admits, questionable actions that called for punishment so cruel, so severe? 

''I'm sorry, but I'm still talking to you.'' 

He opens his eyes again, putting a smile on his face that is so genuinely fake that he hopes it outdoes the articicial face of the lady infront of him. 

''Yes, Ma'am, I think I know just the thing to give to your daughter in law.''

Who she deeply despises. Because she messes up all the traditional family meals. And roots for Obama. And has the audacy to decide how she wants to organize her household instead of listening to her husbands mother. 

Work in retail for christmas time. They said. You will meet alot of interesting people! They said. 

They will tell you their whole lifestory. They didn't say. 

They will expect you to find the one present that will end all of their family issues. They didn't say. 

Noah leads the woman to the isle of the shop where they keep scented candles and all the other things that bitter old witches can give to their despised daughters in law, even though she probably would've prefered rat poison over Cinnamon Dreams. 

''Never again.'' he mutters, as hhe flees from Mrs Botox as quickly as possible, to hide behind the counter again – his very own barricade of can't you see I'm pretending to be busy stop talking to me. 

Just when he settled there, the doors of the shop slid open again, to reveal a boy, maybe around 10 years old. He was wearing a coat that was several numbers to big for him and inbetween brown hair and the scarf around his neck, Noah saw blue eyes darting around nervously. 

He waits for the boy to come up to the counter and ask him for help because he needs a present for his grandmother and contemplates whether it's save to lead him to the candle isle too or whether the risk of Mrs Botox seeing him again is too high, but the kid doesn't walk towards the counter. 

Instead he looks around once again and then heads off into the depths of the store. Well...Noah won't complain. 

When the boy still hasn't reappeared after Mrs Botox is long gone with a set of cinnamon scented candles though, he can't help but wonder what exactly can take a kid so long in a freaking last minute gift store. 

So he makes what he assumes is the worst decision possible: he goes to search for him. 

We have to close soon, he tells himself, he has to leave anyways.

But in reality he is kind of worried. The boy had looked like he was running from something when he came in, like he was scared. 

And maybe, just maybe, Noah isn't as nonchalant and cool as he makes himself out to be infront of his friends. 

Not cool enough to not care for children at least.

When he finds the boy, he is sitting infront of a shelf, a snowglobe in his lap. It's one of those ugly old things that never sell but are put on the lowest shelf every year anyways, with a growing assembly of price stickers on the bottom. Those stickers are currently victimized, the boy peeling off one after another. Next to his legs there is a small pile of rubble and a handful of snowglobes – no doubt all ripped of their old price stickers. 

He doesn't notice Noah until he's sitting next to him, saying: ''You know, buddy, if at all, I should be doing this.''

The boy winces and looks up at Noah, his bright blue eyes big. When he realizes that the older one isn't going to scold him though, he visibly calms down, the tension dropping from his spindly shoulders, and he drops his gaze to the snowglobe again. 

Noah isn't done yet. 

''I'm Noah'' ,he says, settling into a more comfortable position on the vinyl floor. ''I spend my Saturdays in a seasonal gift shop because I'm a broke high school student. What's your excuse?''

The boys eyes meet his again, this time not scared though, but with an accusing scowl. He doesn't deem Noah's question worthy of an answer and rather focuses on the sphere in his hands again. 

There are a few moments of silence, in which Noah realizes that his social skills are terrible and that one reason for that could be that he has only one friend and spends his Saturday evenings in a tiny christmas store with ten-year-old boys who don't want to talk to him. 

''My name's Adam.'' the boy mumbles quietly to the shimmering glass in his hands. It's not much but it's enough for Noah to start a second try. 

''So, Adam. What leads you into our humble store at this beautiful weekend?''

The boy, Adam, still doesn't look up. If he prefers talking to inanimate objects instead of living ones...Noah can understand that. He probably did that too, seven years ago. Hell, he still does that now, who is he even kidding? He grabs another snowglobe and starts copying Adams picking on the sticky paper on the bottom, when he hears the kid's quiet voice again. 

''We don't have christmas decoration anymore, mom sold all of it.''

When Noah looks up Adam looks like he can't believe that he actually said what he did. It hasn't been that bad though? Noah's mom had once sold his sisters' dollhouse. Just a thing that moms do, selling stuff they shouldn't. 

''So you came here because...?''

Adam shrugs. But there is a tension in his shoulders again, telling Noah that the boy cares more about his apparent mistake than he leads on. 

When Noah makes no sign of letting the question go though, Adam huffs out a breath and glares at the snowglobe.  
''It's none of your business.'' ,he mutters, his fumbling on the sticker now more aggresive. 

Noah likes children. He spends loads of his time with his sisters. He's good with them. What he isn't good with is dealing with people who are even worse at making conversation than he is. He wants to help the boy, he really does but to do that, he would first have to know what was wrong...And it didn't seem like Adam would give that crucial bit of information away, so what can Noah do about it?

He moves to get up, saying: ''Very true, Adam. But this here is my business'' – which, of course, it was not- ''And I will have to close up soon, so you should probably get going. Your parents must be worried sick about you.''

That's what grabs the boys attention. His hands clamped around the glass he raises his gaze to meet Noah's and the older can see the same darting kind of panic in them that was there when Adam came in. He shakes his head a little bit. 

''I...I would prefer to stay here.'' he says, and even though he's looking directly at Noah next to him, his voice is nearly too quiet to make out the words. 

Noah is taken off-guard by the boys whole demeanor. When he thinks about his sister, who has to be around Adams age, he thinks about giggles and noise and excitement- Adam seems to be the exact opposite.  
Still, he tries on. 

''Why would you want that? I'm sure your mom's gonna make a delicious dinner soon and then you can chill a bit in your bedroom. Way more comfortable then this vinyl floor, hm?''

He already knows that it's the wrong thing to say when Adam immediatly turns his head down again, concentrating on the remnants of the pricing stickers. 

Rubble:1 Noah:0 

Again, the small voice rises up. 

''Dad will be mad.'', he says, Noah thinks he hears a little quiver in Adam's voice. 

He considers it for a moment. He thinks about how Adam's voice, the tension in his shoulders, the fidgeting in his hands remind him of a frightened small animal. He thinks about how this seems connected to his parents somehow. And then he thinks that he barely knows the boy, that he has neither the right nor the position to think he could do something right in this moment. 

Still, he wants to help. 

A part of him, the part that was annoyed by Mrs Botox, that avoids most customers, that would never admit to his friends that he sat on the floor of the christmas gift shop with a kid at Saturday evening, that part blames the sentimal christmas spirit. 

But the part that thought about how sad it was that the old lady was so bitter about her sons family, his very own sentimental part knows, that Noah would always help if he had to. 

''Give me a second.'', he mutters, getting up quickly. 

He half-jogs over to the next isle and has to kneel down to find what he was looking for in the farest corner of the lowest shelf- the last package of christmas decoration. 

When he hands the slightly dusty plastic square to Adam, he has to admit that it really isn't much. It's a pathetic try to cheer the boy up, to maybe help him over whatever is expecting him at home.  
But it's a try nevertheless and all that Noah can do right now. 

''I don't have money.'' 

Of course he doesn't, Noah didn't expect him to. He also doesn't expect him to accept it as just a gift. He points at the rubble next to Adams legs. 

''It's payment for doing that. Also a thank you for being the only decent person that walked in here today.''

He smiles and gestures towards the door. 

''But you really should go look for your parents, buddy.''

Adam studies the cheesy christmas doodles on the package once again, before slowly getting up, clutching it to his chest. 

And when he leaves, turning around once more to say merry christmas, Noah can't help but feel accomplished. He didn't do anything to improve the kids family situation, he knows he couldn't. But maybe, just maybe, he helped making it a little bit more of a happy christmas for him. 

And while watching the glitter swirl inside the glass of one of the snowglobes he thinks that maybe taking this job hadn't been so bad of a decision after all.


End file.
